The Rules of a Good Man
by Kanae Yuna
Summary: Jim's crew has been threatened because of him and he will do anything to protect them. But this time, to save everyone that Jim has ever held dear, Jim will have to give up everything. And it may be more than he can give.
1. Chapter 1: Geronimo

Hey everyone! So this story is kind of, sort of linked to my series of one-shots, _Ingenious Idiot_. You don't really have to read it before you read this story, but it might help a bit because I'm basing the characters' personality, quirks, and pasts off that. For those of you who are my awesome readers and are following this story because you've already read _Ingenious Idiot_, then feel free to skip to the actual chapter. The mystery of who was after Jim in chapter 10 is going to be revealed sooner or later. :) Oh, and to those who read the preview, remember how I said there were chunks missing in them? They're important pieces, so you can just skim through the chapter and read all those parts, if you want, of course.

For those of you who don't want to read it, that's fine. All you really need to know are these key facts to get the way I depicted the characters (particularly Jim):

1) Jim is an absolute genius with boundless talents. Seriously. In my mind, he's like the crazy guy who can do absolutely everything with splendid skill. He's pretty much a ninja physically and he's ridiculously smart. Strategy is his game and he rocks it. He's also had a bit of a rocky past and after Tarsus, he wandered Earth for a while, picking up various skills, such as aerobatics, card tricks, languages, and a numerous amount of martial art skills.

2) Komack is a bit of a jerk in my stories. Kind of. Basically, he likes to use Jim as an undercover agent and throw him into dangerous situations because well, Jim is the best and he can do everything and more. Jim does get out of it after a particular mission in Germany that went sideways by threatening Komack. If you're interested in that story, it's chapters 8 and 9 of _Ingenious Idiot_.

I may list out some more later on as the story progresses. I may have forgotten a few things that I kind of took from _Ingenious Idiot_. If there's any confusion, please let me know in a review or PM and I'll explain it either in an edit or in the beginning of the next chapter.

Meanwhile, for those who reviewed _Ingenious Idiot_ and requested a few things, most of those requests will be included in this. Tarsus will be mentioned, an overprotective crew will be involved, and of course, lots of Jim whump and his brilliant brand of ingenuity, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! As always, please review!

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own any _Star Trek_ franchise.

* * *

**The Rules of a Good Man**

_"Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many." - Doctor Who  
_

**Chapter 1**

**Geronimo**

All across the universe, there was a single name was synonymous to both hope and destruction. Just a single utterance of it could send shivers of fear down one's spine and yet, uplift spirits when everything seemed lost. The very presence of James Tiberius Kirk swayed worlds, bending logic and reason however he saw fit. Rumors and stories of his extraordinary prowess had spread in the three years that he held the Captain's seat of the famous _Enterprise_ and rapidly, his influence had started to change the universe in ways that could not be fathomed by all but a few.

To many, the young Captain was a shining beacon at the summit of an unreachable mountain, but even the brightest of lights cast shadows, and Jim's were far darker than anyone could have expected. His secrets were buried so deeply that he could count on two hands the amount of people he had told about his turbulent and unforgiving past. His record was far from clean and though the Admirals of Starfleet had turned a blind eye in order to let him take command, he knew that someday, his history was going to come back around to haunt him.

No matter how far he flew or how many lives he saved, he could never escape from the scars of his past.

Sooner or later, he would have to face his worst fears. He could only hope that when it happened, he would be strong enough to make it through it just one more time.

* * *

"Am I awesome or what?" grinned Jim as he settled back comfortably into his Captain's chair as soon as he returned from the most recent mission that had, of course, gone sideways.

The _Enterprise_ had been ordered to negotiate a trade with Nayah – a planet that was being considered as a new addition to the Federation. In his usual flair, Jim managed to get him and Spock arrested within the first day: Jim, because he flirted with the King's daughter (Jim claimed that the _Princess_ flirted with _him_) and Spock, because he tried to protect his Captain.

Jim was still covered from head-to-toe in dirt and grime with Bones hovering next to him with a scowl on his face. The rest of his Command crew was also in a similar state as the grumpy doctor, and with good reason. Sulu and Spock were just as disheveled as Jim, their uniforms torn and scratched and their expressions halfway between exasperation and incredulity. Chekov and Scotty both looked as though Jim made their day (like he usually did) while Uhura was torn between slapping Jim in the face and bashing her own against the wall repeatedly.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I do not believe that qualifies, Captain," he said, clearly leaning more towards frustration.

Jim laughed, the sound bright and light. "You're just sore because they tried to bury us alive."

McCoy was about to explode. "Because you just couldn't keep it in your pants, could you, dumbass?!" he snapped.

"Hey, I fixed it, didn't I?"

"You wouldn't have been able to if Sulu didn't dig you two out," Uhura commented off-handedly.

"Uhura, you wound me," Jim said dramatically, clutching at his chest right above his heart as his blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Ya tellin' Pike any of this?" asked Scotty, chuckling softly.

"Hell no. He'd just scold me." Jim looked thoughtful for a second. "Well, I might tell him how the Prince is now forever indebted to me after I saved his life."

Chekov bounced in his seat. "I can't beliewe zat you managed to get out in time to sawe ze royal family from a coup."

"I also got knighted for my services," Jim added, but McCoy silenced him with a glare.

"You also almost got your arm blown off for your services, moron. If Spock didn't manage to wrestle the bomb away from you and throw it as far away as he could, you wouldn't even be here right now," the doctor snapped.

"Captain, I still cannot understand how you knew that the Prime Minister was plotting to strike against the royal family. How did you know?" Spock questioned.

Jim shrugged. "Just didn't get a good feeling off him from the beginning, so I followed him around and overheard him talking to some of his goons. I didn't get a chance to tell anyone before I got arrested and buried." The lightheartedness on Jim's face dropped as he looked at the Vulcan with slight anger in his eyes. "By the way, Spock, thanks for having my back, but if you _ever_ try to protect me like you did, I _will _write you up for insubordination. We can't have both of the Command officers taken out at the same time."

"You shouldn't talk, Kirk," Sulu said as he crossed his arms. "Imagine the position _I_ was in. You and Spock were buried in two separate graves. I had to choose who to save first. You think _I _was happy about that?"

"I don't think we ever thanked you for that, did we, Sulu?" Jim cocked his head. "Thanks for saving us. And sorry. But since you dug me out first, I guess that means that I'm more popular than Spock! Yes! I win!"

Sulu rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's the entire reason why I got you out first. It has nothing to do with the fact that Spock's a Vulcan and probably could have lasted a good few hours longer than you."

Jim pouted. "You ruin all my fun."

"We should really change your definition of 'fun', Kirk," sighed Uhura, turning to look at her console that had just beeped.

"But then you'd all get so bored."

"We'd have normal lives for once," McCoy retorted.

"Exactly, Bones. Exactly. Normal is boring."

"I am sure the Admirals would disagree," Spock said.

"Speaking of, Pike is calling you," Uhura announced, glancing back at Jim and raising an eyebrow at his unruliness. She smirked, knowing full well that Jim was going to have to bullshit his way through Pike's questions. With Jim's sharp mind and wit, that was always amusing to witness.

Jim looked down at his dirty state. There was no time to scramble and hide, least of all from Pike. "Shit. I guess there's no hiding this now. Put him on screen, Uhura. The rest of you, stations."

The crew immediately obeyed just as Pike's elderly face appeared before them.

Instantly, Jim felt his stomach clench. There was a hardened look on his mentor, but Jim could see the fear, panic, and hurt bleeding out.

He plastered a polite smile onto his face and nodded. "Admiral," he greeted. The word felt foreign as it rolled off his tongue; it had been a while since Jim had called Pike by his title.

Pike stiffened at Jim's response, knowing full well that the young man had read his body language and was reacting accordingly. With Jim, it was always strike first before any harm could be done to him. He watched those blue eyes stare at him with wariness and distrust and though it pained him, Pike could only steel himself for the news he was about to dole out. _"Jim, I need to speak to you privately. _Now_."_

His tone bore no argument and the crew felt fear lick at them. Pike had always been someone they could count on and be on their side – he was someone that Jim considered a father-figure, and that alone spoke volumes. For him to suddenly be so cold could only mean that trouble was on the rise.

Jim stood, his movements too controlled. "I'll connect to you from my ready room."

Pike nodded and hung up, leaving silence behind.

By the time the crew turned to stare at Jim in disbelief and confusion, Jim was already gone from the Bridge.

"Any idea what that was about?" Sulu asked Spock.

"None," Spock responded, frowning faintly. "Nyota, can you bring up their feed?"

"Already on it," she said, her fingers moving rapidly at her console. "Here we go…" She pressed a button and suddenly, Jim's and Pike's voices filled the air.

"_Jim, I don't have much time. I'm here with a warning and you're not going to like it."_

"_Just give it me straight, Pike."_

"_Admiral Dreyes has invoked Section 31, Jim. You know what that means, don't you?"_

There was a pregnant pause. _"Yeah…I do…" _Jim said breathlessly. He took a deep breath. _"Give me a sec, Pike. My crew is probably listening in."_

Jim pressed something and then the feed suddenly cut off.

"What the…?" exclaimed Uhura. She started to type frantically, but nothing she did could bring back that ongoing conversation. "Kirk locked us out!"

"Section 31? Vhat is zat?" questioned Chekov, turning to Spock.

Spock was just as baffled as the rest of them. "I was not aware of such a regulation."

Spock, who knew all the regulations from A to Z and backwards to front, didn't know of such an article?! It was like the world was coming to an end. Again.

"Well, shit," swore McCoy.

"Aptly put, Doctor." Spock glanced at the door to the Captain's ready room, unease rising despite his Vulcan heritage. "My sentiments exactly."

* * *

Pike was already onscreen when Jim locked the entrance behind him. Pike didn't waste any time. _"Jim, I don't have much time. I'm here with a warning and you're not going to like it."_

Jim walked towards his chair and started to pull it out. "Just give it to me straight, Pike."

"_Admiral Dreyes has invoked Section 31, Jim. You know what that means, don't you?"_

Every muscle in Jim's body froze as he realized the true meaning behind Pike's words. "Yeah…I do…" he replied quietly, falling onto his chair. He pulled his PADD that was on the table towards him. "Give me a sec, Pike. My crew is probably listening in."

He opened a program that he had wrote and initiated it. He made sure that it had wiped out any connections Uhura, Chekov, or Spock could have implanted before setting the device back onto the wooden surface. "The rest of this is going to be in private, Pike, so hold nothing back. How the hell does Dreyes have power to utilize me in Starfleet's clandestine service? He's only been in that position for a couple of years!"

"_I don't know how, but Admiral Dreyes got hold of Komack's files on you – the ones regarding your missions under Section 31."_

"Any idea why he wants me?"

"_He was also given the reports of Frank's testimony. He's aware that there may be moles in Starfleet and he's determined to flush them out. He probably wants you because you are the best that Starfleet has ever seen."_

"But if he has Komack's files, he knows that I'm very adamant about staying out of Section 31."

"_I know, but when I refused him, Dreyes made a compelling case to the Admiralty that my judgment regarding your Captaincy is biased because of my closeness to you. I'm temporarily being pulled off your chain of command. You and the _Enterprise_ will be reporting to Dreyes until further notice. It was the only way he could go around my authority and bring you in."_

"And I'm supposed to just I get in line and do what he wants. Shit." Jim ran his fingers through his hair. "So Dreyes knows that there's some underlying plot in Starfleet that wants me, and yet, he's still willing to put me out in the open? Am I bait or something?"

Pike pondered it. _"That is a possibility, but I don't know for sure. Even among the Admirals, Dreyes' motives and actions are not always what they seem."_

"Basically, I'm going in blind with no way out. Goddamn. I thought I was through with Section 31."

"_I did too, son, and I'm sorry I couldn't stop it."_

"You did what you could, Pike. Thanks."

There was a moment of silence before Jim looked back up at Pike. Something akin to sorrow flickered in Jim's blue yes. "You know that Section 31 is going to kill me one day, don't you? One of these times, I won't be coming back," he uttered softly, defeat heavy in his voice.

"_Jim…"_ Pike started.

"You know it's true, Pike, especially after that Germany fiasco. Don't deny it. I know that I can't get out of it as long as I'm under Starfleet's command. If I want my ship and my crew, I have to do what Dreyes wants. I can't run forever. Section 31 never bothered me before in the Academy, but now…" Jim exhaled shakily. "I just…can't do this anymore. Not with my life on the line."

Any other person would have taken Jim's statement as one borne from fear of death, but Pike knew better and he completely understood where Jim's trepidation originated from. _"It's harder when you have people you care about and can't leave behind, isn't it?"_ Pike said quietly.

Jim thought of Bones, Spock, Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, Scotty, and the rest of his crew. He thought of all the laughter, all the tears, and all the hope as they wandered through the vast galaxies. And he couldn't let any of it go. It was the reason why he had gone as far as to threaten Komack to get out of Section 31. He had thought he was in the clear, but he should have known that nothing ever truly went his way. Sooner or later, he would have to face the facts, but he'd be damned if he took it lying down.

"_Are you going to tell them, Jim?"_

Resolve was hard in Jim's eyes. "No."

"_They should know."_

"You know them. After all that shit with Komack, they know that what I'll be doing is going to be extremely dangerous. You think they'll let me go willingly and without a fuss? Just a couple of hours ago, Spock let himself get buried alive alongside me because he tried to protect me. If they do something drastic like that again for me, I don't think even you can save them. They'll all lose more than their commissions for interfering with Section 31."

Jim's PADD suddenly began ringing and Admiral Dreyes' name flashed on the screen. "That's him." He glanced up at his father-like figure. "Pike, I don't know what I'll be doing or where I'll be, but no matter what, you better make sure I have my crew and ship to come back to," he said with all the gusto and confidence that he wished he had.

Pike could hear the solemn promise in Jim's words to try his damnedest to get back to all of them alive. He smiled, _"I promise to protect your family, Jim, so give them hell."_

"Don't I always?" Jim grinned. "I'll talk to ya later, Pike."

"_Be safe, kid."_

Jim swallowed hard and nodded. He touched his PADD and ended Pike's call as he answered Dreyes. The Admiral's face appeared before him. The man was young for his position – just a mere forty-seven years old – having come to power after the whole Nero incident. He was on-planet when the drill had struck and had been horrifically injured trying to save several Cadets from a collapsing building. For his heroic acts, Dreyes was promoted from Captain to Admiral a few days after Jim was given the _Enterprise_.

Now, Jim watched the middle-aged man before him. Dreyes was bald and light-skinned; even the scars maiming his face, like a tiger had scratched him from his left temple to his lower lip, were white. Though his strained posture spoke of years of fatigue and burdens on his shoulders, Jim could see right through his façade. There was such strength and ambition left in the man that it draped and enveloped Dreyes like a cloak. He was smart, cunning, and in the two years he had been in office, he now held a massive amount of power within the Admiralty that it was _frightening_, which made Dreyes a _very_ dangerous contender. It was the whole reason why Jim had tried his hardest to avoid interacting with him up until now, but he had a feeling that this was not the first time Dreyes was interfering with his life.

Jim sat up straighter, clearing all his expression of any emotion. "Admiral," he greeted coldly.

"_Captain Kirk, let's skip the pleasantries, shall we?"_ Dreyes responded in a Manchester, British accent. _"I have recently reviewed all of your missions to date."_

"Any particular reason, sir?"

"_It has been brought to my attention that a great number of your missions result in chaos and unrest. In almost every case, your officers and/or you personally have caused civil wars, diplomatic strife, and needless bloodshed."_

"Sir, have you also noted that my crew and I have successfully completed each and every single mission with good, if not outstanding, results?"

Dreyes went right on as if he didn't even hear Jim. _"Starfleet wants to understand if these events are occurring due to the conditions of the missions itself or due to your leadership. Therefore, we are temporarily bringing the _Enterprise_ back on-base for a two-week shore leave while we determine a satisfactory substitute for you."_

Jim felt his stomach drop out completely. "And what of me, sir? During this _temporary _situation, that is."

"_You will be conducting missions on your own, Kirk, under Section 31. I expect you back in San Francisco in three days. That is all. Dreyes out."_

The screen zipped black. Dreyes' words repeated as if it was a broken record in Jim's mind. He felt numb, still shocked at what had just transpired. And then the weight suddenly sunk in, taking away Jim's breath like someone had sucker-punched him in the gut. Knowing that the idea of Section 31 was going to be met with resilience by Jim, Dreyes had made it so that there was simply no other path that Jim could go. If Jim didn't do as commanded, this 'temporary' situation that was about to happen was going to become permanent. Whoever was taking over for Jim in these few weeks would be there to stay and Jim would lose his ship and worse, his crew.

Fury filled him, consuming him like a wild fire. Dreyes was playing like a fucking marionette – he wasn't someone that Jim could easily bullshit his way through. Dreyes was smart and he knew how to manipulate people almost as well as Jim could. And worse, he had all the power and authority in the world to hold over Jim's head.

There was literally nothing Jim could do but obey Dreyes like a fucking dog.

"ARGH!" he shouted, frustration pouring out like water erupting from a geyser. Without thinking, he grabbed his PADD as he leapt to his feet in one movement, and chucked it across the room. It hit the opposing wall with a resounding crack as it shattered into pieces.

He stood there for a couple of minutes, breathing hard through his nose as he tried to get his rampant emotions under control. Fuck. He was going to lose his ship, his family, and maybe even his life if Dreyes got his way.

Panic swiftly ran through his system and he could feel his hands start to shake even as he tried to force himself to focus. He had to figure this out; he had to play the game and somehow come out the other end victorious. Otherwise, he was going lose everything.

Even Jim couldn't come back from that.

Not again.

* * *

More than half-an-hour later, Jim shut the door firmly behind him and walked back to his chair as if nothing had happened. All of his agitation had been suppressed for the moment, but it threatened to bubble to the surface, exploding like a cork popping out from a champagne bottle. He could feel his crew's eyes on him so he quickly slid on an extra mask, seemingly ignoring their stares as plopped down into his Captain's chair with his usual grace.

"Sulu, plot a course to Earth. Warp speed four," he said as normally as possible. "Oh, and someone get me another PADD please."

Spock and McCoy crowded Jim. "What did Pike want, Jim?" asked McCoy.

Jim shrugged, nonchalant. "He was just giving me a warning."

"Why are we returning to Earth?" Spock questioned. "Orders have not come in yet."

"They will in a few seconds. From Dreyes himself."

"Admiral Dreyes? Not from Admiral Pike?"

"Thank you, Chekov," Jim said as the teenager handed him a new PADD. He immediately started playing on it, launching some program and typing away furiously on it. He was hacking and searching for any loose ends that Dreyes might have left, anything that stuck out.

A minute later, he realized that Spock and McCoy were still waiting on him. They weren't going to leave him alone until he answered them. "We're being temporarily reassigned," Jim said off-handedly.

"Excuse me?!" protested Uhura. She stood and stormed over to Jim, crossing her arms. "What are you talking about, Kirk? Are we losing the _Enterprise_?"

Jim barely managed to suppress his flinch, but he kept his expressions neutral and aloof. That innocuous sentence was raising a sliver of panic within him and it was rapidly growing.

He never took his eyes off his PADD as he replied. "You're not losing the _Enterprise_, promise." He wasn't lying. _They_ weren't going to lose this ship. Him on the other hand…it was a totally different story. "You've been granted a two-week shore leave and then we're being reassigned missions, that's all."

Sulu frowned. "Any particular reason why?"

"None that you'd like to hear."

"And vhat is Section 31?" asked Chekov, swinging around in his chair to look at Jim.

At that, Jim paused, thinking. What was the best possible answer he could give to avoid suspicion? They couldn't know any more of the existence of Section 31 or Dreyes would take action against them. Partial truth it was then. "You remember those missions I did under Komack? Dreyes got a hold of them and decided to review them, so he invoked Section 31."

"I have never heard of such a regulation," said Spock.

"If you had, I would be worried. My missions were conducted under the utmost secret, remember? So the review board must be done covertly too, don't you think? If anyone asks, you still don't know anything about any of this either."

Scotty made his way around to stand right in front of Jim. "Why are ya bein' reviewed, laddie? Sumthin' ya ain't tellin' us?"

"It's nothing to worry about. It's pretty much just a formality – to make sure that I haven't gone to the dark side and all." Jim abruptly shut his PADD off. He couldn't think with his crew nearby; he hadn't quite settled his own panicking feelings yet and couldn't keep his expressions blank anymore.

He stood. "Well, if that's all, I got some reports I have to file. Procrastination and all. Spock, you have the conn. Message me if you guys need me."

Jim patted McCoy's shoulder as he made his way to the turbolift. He flashed them a smile as the doors closed before him, leaving like a whirlwind. His crew was left so dizzy and confused.

"Uh, anyone want to explain what just happened?" asked Sulu.

The rest sat there in silence, except for Scotty who wandered into the Captain's ready room, hoping that it could lead to clues.

"I do not know," Spock crossed his arms. "Doctor?"

McCoy frowned. "Jim hasn't told me anything about Dreyes. He's never even mentioned the man so I didn't think he would cause any problems."

Uhura turned around. "Is he even causing problems? For all we know, he's just covering for Jim."

"The Keptin didn't seem particularly stressed either…" trailed Chekov. "Are ve overthinking zis?"

"It's true – we do tend to get a little bit overprotective and suspicious of Kirk," Sulu agreed. "Maybe, for the first time, it's actually nothing as Kirk says."

There was a loud thud as Scotty emerged from the ready room with a worried look in his face. "Lads, I think we 'ave a problem."

"What is it, Mister Scott?" asked Spock.

Scotty held up the pieces of Jim's broken PADD. "There's sumthin' he ain't tellin' us."

Sulu sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "Well, so much for _that _theory…"

McCoy shook his head. "I'll go see what's going on with him. The rest of you, put a sock in it, alright? If Jim ain't telling us stuff, that means that we can't go about talking about it either, got it?"

He didn't wait for a response before walking straight into the turbolift. As it whirred around him, McCoy took a deep breath. He leaned back and almost sank against the wall of the lift.

Section 31. He was hoping that he would never hear that combined with Jim's name again. Not after the last time when Jim came back clinging to the edge of life.

Fuck. This was not going to end well. For any of them.

* * *

McCoy hesitated for a few moments outside of Jim's door. With Jim, it was always a toss-up on when to confront him. Sometimes, Jim just needed some space and time to simmer down; others, he needed almost immediate physical contact for comfort. His behavior on the Bridge earlier was confusing: he was so aloof and nonchalant that no one could get a proper read on him. Even McCoy wasn't too sure what he could expect from his best friend, but there was only one way to find out.

Leonard knocked on the door. "It's me, Jim."

There was no response, as McCoy expected, but the door chimed as it unlocked. McCoy frowned as he stepped in – Jim being willing was never a good sign.

When it shut behind him, McCoy found himself shrouded in darkness. Not even the usual glint of Jim's numerous PADDs could be seen. It took a moment for McCoy's eyes to adjust to the blackness.

"Before you say anything or start to psychoanalyze me, I let you in because you would've just overridden my code anyway," came Jim's tired voice to McCoy's left.

McCoy knew Jim's quarters like the back of his hand – he probably spent more time in Jim's room than he did in his own. Drawing a mental picture of the location of Jim's furniture, he figured that Jim was more than likely sitting by his desk, which was unusual for him. Bones only ever found Jim on the floor if he was bleeding out and unconscious or if he had a particularly hard puzzle he was mulling over with.

The heavy feeling in Bones' gut sunk more.

"You could've easily overridden my code, Jim. You've done it before," Bones said, his tone completely neutral.

"And then you would've panicked and called in the cavalry. Can't have that, can we?"

Bones sauntered forward and felt for the chair, sitting down with a sigh. The chair creaked as Bones leaned back. There was still no sign of Jim yet.

A moment later, he felt a slight nudge against his leg as Jim shifted. Though Bones couldn't see Jim fully, he could make out the side of his best friend's figure from where he sat on the floor. Jim was leaning against the side of his solid wood desk, no doubt staring into the darkness, thinking and planning.

In the dark, Jim's thoughts were no longer as scattered and he could smother any rising emotions that he had on this matter entirely. Back in the ready room, Jim was filled with anger that he wasn't being given a choice. He was naturally rebellious and the more someone tried to push him into a corner, the more he wanted to fight. Then the realization that he may lose more than he could bear had sent him spiraling down with fear. It was too overwhelming all at once and Jim couldn't even hear himself past the turmoil.

Here, now that he was calmer, lines had started to connect in his mind. The missions and the rumors that he had been keeping an ear out for were all leading to this. He didn't know everything, but he knew enough that whatever was going to happen was revolved around him. That was it. Everything else was shrouded in blackness. He didn't even know what Dreyes motives were – he couldn't even _begin_ to make sense of what Dreyes' plans were, and that made Jim _extremely_ nervous and wary.

Jim rationally knew that Dreyes was not someone that he could fight against easily. There was no telling how much collateral damage there was going to be if Jim did, and he wasn't willing to risk that.

He would have to go back into Section 31 and cover his hands with blood once again. There truly was no other choice, but it didn't stop him from wracking his brain for some other possibility. There was too much red on his ledger already.

"So…Section 31?" Bones ventured. The doctor knew perfectly what Section 31 was, despite his charade on the Bridge. It wasn't something that he could nonchalantly say aloud. Secrets and shadows surrounded the entire organization and Starfleet fully sanctioned its surreptitious nature, protecting it with a giant stick that threatened anyone who know if its existence. When Bones learned of it (by accident because Jim had just come back brutally injured from a mission and wasn't allowed to go to a hospital for treatment), he was sworn to secrecy by pain of death, exile, or whatever the hell Starfleet deemed a horrible punishment. So yes, Bones knew about Section 31, but most importantly, he knew what it meant for Jim.

"Yeah."

"Komack still in charge of it?"

"Nope. Dreyes is."

"I still have clearance?"

"Probably not."

"So what's really going on?"

There was a moment of silence as Jim debated on what to tell his best friend. In the end, this was the time for honesty. Sooner or later, Bones would figure this whole thing out and give him those disappointing and hurt eyes that Jim never could bear. It was easier to just rip off the bandage in one go – minimize all the pain at once.

Jim sighed resignedly. "I'm being pulled back."

Bones felt like the floor had disappeared from below him. "When?" he breathed,

"As soon as we dock."

"If he's trying to keep this inconspicuous, he's not doing a good job with it. What the hell is Dreyes thinking?!"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"What did he say exactly?"

"That our missions are too wild and he wants to figure out why shit hits the fan almost every single time. He's saying that it's because of my leadership as an excuse to pull me away from the _Enterprise_."

"You know why?"

"I can only think of two scenarios. One: there's something going down and they need me, so they can't afford me to weasel my way out. The second is that Dreyes has something against me and is using Section 31 to get rid of me once and for all."

"Which one are you leaning towards?"

"Don't know. The second one? But I can't think of anything that I've done to piss Dreyes off."

"What are you going to do?"

Bones heard a thud as Jim presumably hit the back of his head against the wood. He heard an exhale. "I don't know…"

It was the most unsure Bones had ever heard Jim before, and that unnerved him. Jim Kirk was never unsure. Jim Kirk was always confident in himself, no matter the circumstances. "Jim?"

"Any way I play this out in my head, I lose so much."

The scenarios flittered behind the back of Jim's eyelids like a movie screen: each choice leading to another path branching off to another. If he agreed, Dreyes would have complete control over him and though he may have the _Enterprise _and his crew, he wasn't sure if he could live under someone else's thumb again. Not after Frank and certainly not after Kodos. But if he disagreed and fought, Jim had no doubt that Dreyes would not only take away his ship, he would also take out his anger on his family.

Jim knew exactly what he had to do. The problem was: he had gotten soft. The love of his friends had made him cautious – more wary for his life because he now had something to live for. He had tried to push his crew away and though they did give him space when he asked for it, it erased none of their past or their bonds of friendship.

Back when he was in the Academy, he had nothing to lose, nothing to fear. Though he wasn't quite as strong as he was when he was J.T. on Tarsus IV, he was still a force to be reckoned with. Now? He had gotten complacent; he could barely feel the blood on his hands anymore. He should've known that he was never going to escape; he was never going to catch a break. Blood, chaos, and misery always followed him.

And damn was he tired of it. Tired of all the havoc, all the grief that he was ever a part of, and even worse, of those that he had caused. He was tired of all that he had lost and all that he would and could lose.

"I'd rather leave than be left behind…" he murmured tiredly. He couldn't help it. He was only human. After all that had happened in his past, who could fault him for being selfish? He was more than ready to just give up, regardless of the consequences.

"What was that?" asked McCoy. "I didn't hear that."

Jim almost forgot that Bones was there. "Nothing. It was nothing…"

He peered through the dark to glance at Bones. With his perceptive vision, he could barely make out the intense lines of concern on Bones' face; the jitteriness of his bouncing leg and his clenched fists. Bones was just bursting with worry and questions for his best friend, but he was holding it back because he cared far more for Jim's wellbeing than for answers itself. Because Bones was unconditionally and unequivocally Jim's best friend and brother, and he always would be.

And then Jim was reminded all over again why – no, _who_ – he was fighting for in the first place. It didn't matter how dirty Jim got or how broken Jim would become, his friends would never leave him or let him leave. They were family, which meant that Jim couldn't just leave this be.

If Dreyes wanted to Jim to play, fine, he would. But he sure as hell was going to make Dreyes regret it.

His resolve hardened and all fears and indecisiveness faded away. He smiled, despite himself. "It's nothing, Bones. Just saying that I think I have a plan now."

"You sharing?"

"If I told you, it'd spoil the surprise, wouldn't it?" Jim joked, getting to his feet. He patted McCoy on the shoulder and trotted to his closet, pulling off his gold uniform and stripping down to the black wife-beater he wore underneath. "I'm going to go workout for a bit, blow off some steam. We good?"

"Depends. You good?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

"You're not doing anything dangerous, are you, Jim?"

"Even if I was, do you think I could tell you, Bones?"

"And that's what worries me."

"Relax, Bones. We'll be back on Earth in like two days. Go see Joanna while you're on leave."

Bones got up and came up quietly to stand directly behind Jim, who stiffened minutely out of nervousness, like a rabbit caught out in an open field with nowhere to run. "Jim, I know that you're entitled to your own secrets and you clearly don't want to talk about it, so I'll respect that, but can you just tell me that you'll be alright? And I want the truth or nothing, Jim. The truth. You owe me that much."

Jim thought about what he was about to do: he was going to throw himself into the throes of the unknown that was fraught with dangers, with no plan and no backup. He had to, otherwise he would never figure out what the hell was actually going on, and if he didn't know, he couldn't protect the people that had somehow become so very precious to him.

So he turned and smiled at Bones even though he _knew_ that Bones could tell when he was lying through his teeth. "You'll be fine, Bones, don't worry."

"I wasn't asking about _me_, Jim, and you know it."

Jim didn't even hesitate. "Fine then. I'll be okay, Bones." He leaned over to reach the bed behind Bones and grabbed a small towel. He patted Bones' shoulder as he headed out. "I'll catch ya later."

He was illuminated in a bright light for a brief moment as his door opened and Bones could see every tense muscle in his back and neck – his toned deltoids and triceps were taut with stress. How heavy of a burden was sitting on Jim's shoulders? It looked as though the whole damn world was weighing the kid down. And then Bones was drowned in the darkness once again as Jim stepped away and let the door shut behind him.

Bones sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, worry eating away at his insides. "Rule number one: Jim lies," he recited quietly.

There was a flash of memory of Jim grinning at him, so bright and so cheerful, over a beer. He couldn't even remember what they had been laughing about, but all he could recall was Jim clapping him on the shoulder and saying, _"Number one rule of knowing me is that I lie. All the damn time."_

"_Yeah?"_ Bones had chuckled. _"Got a rule for everything?"_

"_Pretty much. Stick around and maybe you'll learn them all."_

"_How many you got?"_

"_Enough to last you two lifetimes."_

"_Sounds like a lot of work. I think I'll pass."_

Jim had laughed. _"Yeah, I would too, if I were you."_

"_So what's rule number thirty-four?"_

"_You pull that number out of your ass?"_

"_You gonna pull a random rule outta yours?"_

Jim had chortled, but answered anyway._ "Rule number thirty-four is never trust the brass. They always got something up their sleeve. They're always out for themselves and it's the people down here who suffer."_

His words at that time had been ludicrous, considering that Jim was on the Command track, but now it seemed strangely prophetic.

He pulled out his communicator and comm'ed Spock.

"_Spock here."_

"Spock, it's McCoy. Can you do me a favor and dig up everything you can on Dreyes?"

"_Do you suspect something, Doctor?"_

"Not yet, but rule number thirty-four and all."

There was a pause as Spock realized to what McCoy was referring to. _"Understood. I will be as discrete as possible. For now, please keep a watchful eye on Jim. If he is in fact reverting to his own set of rules, then perhaps he may be more prone to spontaneous and crass decisions."_

"Got it."

"_Good luck, Doctor."_

"Yeah, yeah. You too. McCoy out," he grouched as he hung up.

He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders as he prepared to follow his best friend to the ends of the universe.

"Well, here goes nothing. Geronimo."

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

I know this was short, but I'm building it up. I've got this entire story planned out and written out in my head, but not on paper, so updates will be sporadic. I'll update as soon as I have the next chapters typed out and stuff. Reviews always help encourage me! *wink wink, nudge nudge*

Oh, and to those who may or may not have seen the Doctor Who references: yes, that was on purpose. I love Matt Smith and I'm so upset that he's no longer going to be the Doctor, so this is kind of, somewhat a tribute to him. It's mostly just because I fell in love with the whole quote of: "The anger of a good man is not a problem. They have too many rules." followed by: "Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many." Gives me chills every time I read it and I have no idea why, lol! In fact, this whole entire story started forming in my head after that episode of _Doctor Who_ on that quote alone. It was brilliant...and add on to the fact that I'm a little bit crazy and out pops this one. I'm nuts, but oh well. C'est le vie.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! There will be more to come. :)

Thanks for reading and please review!

~ Kanae Yuna


	2. Chapter 2: The End of the Road

**Chapter 2**

**The End of the Road**

James T. Kirk had a rule for everything. It was almost ridiculous how many rules he had. Randomly and seemingly without reason, Jim would spit one out like it was second nature. Most were mundane and harmless, like not eating an apple after two in the afternoon (rule number twenty-eight). Others were integrated into his Captaincy, such as never going anywhere without a knife (rule number 7). That particular rule had saved him and his crew several times. Some rules he picked up from various people, but most from experience, gathering in the years with Frank and under Kodos' reign.

Jim had so many rules that his friends had compiled a list just for entertainment. Jim would smile and give them more, but he never explained why he kept all these rules even when he was forced to pay attention to Starfleet's regulations. His rules, when he chose to revert to them, saved lives and often turned the tides on a mission that was rapidly failing.

Jim and his rules. It was just another enigma that no one could answer, but one thing his crew could say was that when Jim started quoting his rules, it meant that trouble was stirring. It meant that someone needed saving.

So when McCoy told the crew that Jim cited rule number thirty-four, all of them unconsciously began to prepare themselves for a battle. But _nothing_ could have prepared them for what was in store for them.

In the three days it took for the _Enterprise _to reach the dock at San Francisco, Jim seemed to be all over the place. Their Captain spent some of his time hidden away in his quarters or training vigorously in the gym. Any time he was on the Bridge or merely walking through the halls, Jim's face was usually buried into a PADD. When inquired by passing crewmembers what he was doing, Jim would just grin and joke, saying that he had procrastinated a bit too much and he needed to get things finished before they docked.

His interactions with his command crew were no different though, oddly enough. Jim laughed and bantered like always. When seen in McCoy's company, he usually had an arm around the doctor's shoulders. With Chekov, the two often had their heads put together, whispering and scheming until Spock or McCoy ruined their fun. Sulu sparred with Jim, the former noting the intensity and vigor of Jim's workout, as if he was trying to become so much stronger in a short amount of time. Jim didn't dare to cross the line with Uhura, like always, but he still couldn't help his cheekiness. His shenanigans with Scotty were kept in secret (for obvious reasons. It _was_ against regulations to have Romulan ale onboard the ship.) Spock and he talked about science, each picking the other's brain for their brilliance.

Despite how often Jim hid away to work, he made time for his friends, savoring each second like a decadent piece of chocolate that was rapidly disappearing. It was unprecedented, making it obvious that something had happened. The tension among the command crew was so high that it could cut the air. When they thought no one was looking, they would glance at Jim with such worry and such weariness that it made everyone else nervous.

But Jim never let on if he was nervous or perturbed about anything. That was until the _Enterprise_ docked in San Francisco. Within seconds of parking, Jim's communicator was beeping. A hardened look spread across Jim's face. His jaws were grit tightly and his body subconsciously changed, making him seem more formidable and dangerous – frightening even, and that adjective was not usually placed in the same sentence as Jim Kirk's name, at least not in front of his crew.

Jim glanced at the message on his communicator and stood. A grey tint entered his usually vibrant blue eyes and suddenly, Jim wasn't their Captain anymore. He looked more like a man going to war, but Jim didn't even give them time to question him. He passed the conn to Spock as he turned and left, completely dropping off the grid for the next two weeks.

All that was left of Jim was his neatly folded gold Captain's uniform placed carefully on his bed and a small piece of paper with a single word scrawled on it:

_Sorry._

But for what, the crew didn't know.

* * *

Dreyes' office was as dull and dreary as Jim had expected. Like Pike's, it was completely white with an entire wall composed of glass windows. There weren't any decorations; the room was armed with just the bare essentials: a desk, chair, and lamp. Most Admirals had bookshelves filled with theory, facts, philosophy. Achievements generally hung on the wall in frames – perfectly straight and perfectly kempt. Dreyes had none of that. Even his furniture was plain; there was nothing on Dreye's normal desk except organizers and documents. Everything was kept in an orderly fashion and kept so unusually, sparkling clean, as if Dreyes suffered from an obsessive compulsive disorder, but Jim could see past that.

Having nothing on the walls meant that Dreyes did not care for fame or glory; he cared about law and order and that he was doing what he thought was right, regardless of what anyone said or did. If Jim wanted to go one step further, he could even say that Dreyes never looked to the past – only forwards. The cleanliness of his office meant that Dreyes was thorough and never overlooked any detail, no matter how small. He was meticulous and careful – always thinking three or more steps ahead of anyone and never showing emotions easily. Feelings could be manipulated by others and used as a weapon – Dreyes understood that fully and kept up a front. Even Jim could not tell the depth of his barriers. While Jim hid behind smiles and sarcasm, Dreyes used coldness and intimidation to maintain a distance as he read and analyzed each and every single person he would ever meet.

He was just like a cynical and bitterer older version of Jim. Jim didn't quite know how he felt about that because for all that Jim disliked about Dreyes, Jim couldn't help but think that the Admiral was admirable. He wasn't swayed by politics or by greed. All that he did and all that he commanded was for the greater good. He knew how to balance the scales – to choose the lesser of two evils when there was no other choice, but he had a great capacity for compassion. No matter what was on the line – money, fame, or power – Dreyes would always choose the path that would save more lives. He was strong in his convictions and he had no doubt saved thousands, if not millions of lives.

Jim couldn't condone Dreye's actions, but it didn't mean that Jim had to be happy about being dragged back into Section 31. It was getting harder and harder for him to delve into the shadows without behind recognized now, which meant that the danger was increasing exponentially.

The thought of that sent a shiver of anger through him again and he straightened, showing no weaknesses as he stood before Dreyes.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Jim said, keeping his tone neutral.

Dreyes glanced up, his brown eyes piercing through Jim's soul. "Do you know why I called you here?"

"To review the _Enterprise's _mission and determine whether or not my leadership is questionable," Jim dutifully recited.

The Admiral just leveled a look at Jim. "I know you're smarter than you let on, Kirk. You know the _real_ reason I asked you here."

At that, Jim leaned back, his mind turning. The changes were minute, but the harsh lines on Dreyes' face had softened and there was genuine interest in his wise eyes. Suddenly, Jim was reminded of his first encounter with Pike – he had the same initial and bitter impression of his father-figure, and look where he and Pike were now. Jim didn't know whether or not he felt angry that he had been stewing over nothing for three days or relieved that Dreyes didn't seem to be out for him. Maybe.

Jim let his posture become more relaxed – confident, even. He was still wary, but he wasn't willing to let it cloud his mind anymore. He shrugged as he answered Dreyes' question, keeping it short and vague. "I'm a wanted man."

"Yes, you are. I'm going to get straight to point Kirk. My time is valuable."

"As is mine," Jim shot back, unable to hold himself back.

There was a tightening in Dreyes' jaw as he bit back his rising irritation at the young Captain. "There's been a breach in Starfleet, Kirk."

"I'm aware. My step-father told me when he had me tied up and drugged," Jim retorted sarcastically. "I assume that's the reason for the overly threatening method that you used to ground me and my ship?"

"I don't know how far we've been compromised. Lines may not be secure anymore. We needed to meet face-to-face for this conversation."

It made sense. Dreyes had to come up with some bullshit to bring the _Enterprise_ back on Earth, but in a way that didn't raise any flags to indicate that Jim and Dreyes were fully conscious of what was growing in the shadows deep within Starfleet. The fact that Dreyes had called Jim back meant that there was more that Jim hadn't been able to find on his own.

"So what _do_ you know? You have eyes and ears everywhere, Dreyes. You should know something."

"It's nothing that you don't already know, Kirk. Don't think I haven't noticed your fingerprints in our system again. Keep them out."

"I will if you tell me what the hell is going on here."

Dreyes folded his hands onto the desk, giving Jim a hard and serious look. "There is a group within Starfleet that has risen out of hatred of you. We don't know who is a part of this, but they pose a great danger. One word, one wrong move, and Starfleet's reputation can be irreparably damaged. With all that has happened with Nero, Starfleet cannot afford any bad publicity anymore."

Jim crossed his arms defensively. "It's worse because this entire situation is revolved around me, am I right?"

Dreyes nodded slowly. "Your past is not exactly light reading, Kirk. Starfleet has buried most of it, at your request, but it is not lost. It can be found, even with your hacking skills, and I believe that it has been found."

That shocked Jim. "If someone can undo what I did years ago, that takes tremendous skill."

"Exactly. It means that the perpetrator has skills that are comparable to yours, and to Starfleet, that is _terrifying_."

"And you need me to deal with someone of that caliber," Jim filled in. "That's why you're pulling me back into Section 31."

"We need you to act as bait. You will go underground and start flushing out the rats until we get a name. You report to me and only me. I know you're close with Pike, but this is to be kept in utmost secrecy. The less people who know, the less of a chance that you will be discovered."

"What if I don't want to? My last mission didn't end well, remember?"

"I can understand that. I'm not quite as big of a bastard as you think I am, Kirk. I _am_ giving you a choice. Just know that if you do not do this, sooner or later, it will catch up to you. When it does, it will not only be you in danger, but your crew as well. It is well known that you are extremely protective of your crew. Can you stand letting them come to harm?"

Jim fell silent, something caught in his throat. Dreyes knew exactly which pressure points to push; Jim couldn't say no when his crew was involved. Damn it, he had been so severely compromised by his useless and unnecessary attachment to his friends. And the worst part was that even though he knew the dangers of caring, he didn't regret anything at all.

"I will take that as an acceptance to this mission then," Dreyes said. "Don't worry, Kirk. I will do all that I can to make sure that your crew will be safe."

"How?" demanded Jim, his head jerking up. His eyes narrowed in anger. "You said that you didn't know who was involved. They are _my_ crew. That alone puts them in great danger. How can you _possibly_ keep them safer than if they were with me?"

"They cannot be in danger if they are away from the epicenter, can they?"

"What are you talking about?"

"If the _Enterprise_ is off-planet, they cannot be involved in the battle revolved around you that is to come. I will be assigning a protégé of mine to your ship and he will be taking your crew to Zenobia where they will be cared for by his family in the government."

"Why not send Pike in my place? Why bring in someone entirely new?"

"Sending an Admiral out into the field when a Captain is readily available will raise red flags. We cannot risk that."

"Then I at least demand to meet this 'protégé' of yours first," Jim countered hotly. "I should get a say in who takes my place when I'm running for my life."

Dreyes' eyes flashed in anger. Clearly, the Admiral did not take well to disrespect, but Jim cared little about it. This _was _his family and crew that they were talking about. Jim had every right to be difficult.

"You don't get to dictate the terms here, Kirk. I'm already being lenient as it is," Dreyes warned carefully.

"You're the one forcing me into a corner, Dreyes," Jim snarled back. "It seems to me like I'm just dancing to your every command. I mean, why are you acting now? You knew about this shit for several months! Have you just been sitting on your ass waiting for me to screw up?"

"Do not forget that you're a Starfleet officer, Kirk!" Dreyes roared, standing to his full height. "You signed your life away to the Federation! What makes you think that you have a choice in anything anymore?!"

Jim leapt to his feet, feral. "Don't give me that shit, Dreyes. How much do you think Starfleet has taken from me?! I'm not here for you or the fucking Federation. I can leave whenever I want, and I'm your _best_ operative. You think Starfleet's going to be pleased that you just let me walk out the fucking door?"

"Are you threatening me?!"

"Are you threatening _me_, Dreyes? Because you've read my files. I don't take well to threats, especially ones that will affect _my _people, _my _crew." Jim took a deep breath, calming his tone. "As you said, I'm a smart guy, Dreyes. I know how this has to pan out; I'm not refusing your orders. You know that I can't, not at this juncture, which is what I expect you were waiting for. All I'm asking for is that my crew be taken care of. I'm not letting them come to harm, Dreyes. If I have to break cover and tear apart the entire Federation to keep them safe, I will."

A strained silence fell as Dreyes considered Jim's words. Slowly, he sat back down. "Fine. You can choose your replacement."

Watching Dreyes carefully, Jim sat back down too, his back tense and straight. "There's no need for one. Spock is more than capable of leading my ship."

"That will be too obvious. We do not know how long your solo mission will take and having your First Officer take command for an extended period will raise suspicion. Having a substitute can deter any wandering eyes." Dreyes raised an eyebrow at Jim. "If you don't have any ideas, I can offer suggestions."

Jim glared at Dreyes. The damn bastard just knew that Jim didn't interact with any other officer except for his crew and the Admirals.

"My protégé, Commander Royce Wolff is due for a promotion. Leading the _Enterprise_ will be a good test of his skills. If you wish, I can call him here now for you to meet him."

Royce Wolff. Jim had heard that name before. He was in the Academy at the same time as Jim was. The young man was about two years ahead of Jim in the harsh Command track and six years older in age. He was ambitious and from what Jim gathered, a good man in general. Unlike Jim who had an infamous reputation, Wolff was always a gentleman. He wasn't quite as bright as Jim or as talented when it came to physical prowess, but he was efficient and obedient. A perfect soldier that Jim could never be.

"Even if I refuse him, you would still choose him, wouldn't you?" Jim said, forming his question into a statement.

"Unless you can call on another qualified individual, of course," Dreyes returned pointedly. "It shouldn't take long for him to arrive. We have an appointment in five minutes."

"I assume you're going to tell me the parameters of my mission in that time?"

"The premise of your mission is simple, Kirk." Dreyes slid a folder full of pictures and documents on the table towards Jim. "Find the traitors before they get you. I shouldn't have to tell you that discretion is of the utmost importance here, Kirk. The world cannot know that Starfleet has a cancer growing in them."

Jim quietly flipped through the documents, skimming through the words. "There's not much here to go off of, Dreyes."

"And that's why your skill set is needed. We tried deploying others before you, but all of them disappeared without a trace. What you have is what our agents traded their lives for, Kirk. Make good use of them."

There was a knock on the door and Dreyes waited until Jim slyly tucked the file into the back of his pants, pulling his golden uniform over it to shield it from sight, before he said, "Come in."

A young man wearing the standard, grey Starfleet uniform stepped in. He was of German descent and was just barely into his thirties. His brown hair was cropped short and gelled to a slight spike at his forehead. He had large, brown eyes and a small nose, making him seem slightly disproportional, even more so by his body. He was by no means short; he was of average height, but he clearly worked out often and the bulkiness of his arms and torso made the rest of his body small.

"I apologize, Admiral Dreyes. I didn't realize that you had company," he said politely.

"Commander Wolff, this is Captain James T. Kirk. Kirk, this is Royce Wolff," Dreyes introduced them.

A smile lit up on Wolff's face and he rushed forward to shake Jim's hand. "Captain Kirk! It is such an honor to meet you in person! I mean, I met you when we were in the Academy. I think we had a couple of classes together, but I haven't seen you since your graduation ceremony!"

Jim gritted his teeth and flashed a smile at Wolff. "It's nice to see you again, Wolff."

"Royce, please. Or Roy if you prefer."

Jim chuckled, trying to pull his hand away surreptitiously, but failing. "Eager fellow, aren't you?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Wolff stepped back so quickly, like he had been burned by Jim.

Jim shook his head as he stood, moving so that the file didn't make single sound. "Don't worry about it, Wolff."

"I just want to say that I'm so honored to be onboard the _Enterprise. _I hope to continue in your footsteps, Captain."

"So Dreyes already told you," said Jim, his smile becoming slightly strained as he glared at Dreyes. "Take care of my ship, Wolff. Don't scratch her."

"I won't. I promise to do my best."

Jim nodded before turning his attention back to Dreyes again. "Well then, Dreyes, I take my leave now. If you need me, I'm sure you can figure out how to contact me."

"Good luck, Kirk."

"Remember our agreement, Dreyes. I won't hesitate if anything happens." Jim didn't finish his threat and left with it hanging, but Dreyes knew full well what Jim was referring to.

If anything happened to the _Enterprise_, Jim would bring the world to its knees.

He glanced at Wolff who was excitedly talking to Dreyes about Kirk and how amazing the young Captain was in real life. Wolff kept rambling, like a star-struck fool.

He couldn't help but sigh. If he didn't want Kirk to go on a rampage, he had better make sure that Wolff was ready to do anything to protect Kirk's crew.

And who knew how long that was going to take?

More importantly, how long did they even have before shit hit the fan?

* * *

In the couple of years that Jim had commandeered the _Enterprise_, Jim never once thought that he would have to sneak onto her. It was a little disorienting and disheartening to say the least. With most of his crew already on shore, it was easy for Jim to navigate through the halls unnoticed, like the ghost he was about to become. He avoided the hallways that he knew had cameras and on those that he simply couldn't avoid, he stuck to the blind spots. Treading softly, he quietly made his way to his quarters and let the doors close behind him.

His eyes roamed over his room. He remembered how it was when he had just started on the _Enterprise_. All he had to his name was a few uniforms and a duffel bag full of his civvies. His quarters were empty except for what Starfleet had placed into his quarters and Jim never had the intention to decorate it.

Now, there were trinkets placed carefully throughout his room. There was a framed photo of him, Bones, and Joanna on his bedside dresser. The three of them had such warm smiles, especially Bones, who only ever flashed that sort of soft, happy smile around his daughter and Jim when they were alone. It was one of the fondest memories Jim had of his best friend and his unofficial goddaughter and it was the only picture Jim actually owned. It was the only picture Jim had ever kept in his entire life.

A worn-out stuffed rabbit sat in its own shelf on his bookshelf. Jim could still remember Chekov shoving the rabbit – a memento from his childhood – to Jim soon after the whole de-aging incident. He had been horrified when Jim accidentally let slip that he had never owned anything precious that he carried around with him through the years. The rabbit was Chekov's most prized possession and he still gave it to Jim because he said that Jim needed it more than he did now. Jim didn't quite know what to say to that, so he took it wordlessly with a touched smile and gently placed it into his room.

Beside the rabbit (Chekov had called it Yuri), was a first edition of _The Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers_, by J.R.R. Tolkien. That had been a gift from Sulu after the whole Shelob event. Days after, Jim and Sulu would still crack up about the giant spider and the origin of its name. Often, they would be seen having philosophical debates regarding the series, trying to see who was the nerdier of the two. Finally, Sulu admitted to having all four books in paperback – first edition – and won with a landslide. He gave the novel to Jim during a Christmas, knowing full well that Jim had a soft spot for paperbacks but still didn't own any. Jim refused at first, not wanting to break Sulu's set apart, but Sulu just smiled at him and said that he wasn't. As long as they were together, the set would still be complete. Jim had to run from Sulu after that, unable to take the emotion anymore, but not before thanking Sulu in a quiet and touched voice.

Sitting on a shelf below the rabbit and book was an old, well-played chess set that Spock had given him. The Vulcan had one day discovered that Jim played often when he was a kid. Curious, Spock had challenged Jim to a match and was shocked to discover that Jim was _good_. In fact, Jim barely won their first game. Spock had found Jim's unpredictability a delight and would often come over in the evenings to play. The two had bonded from the experience, each sharing bits of themselves until one day, they were almost as close as Jim was to Bones. It was in one of these games that Jim found out that this chess set was given to Spock by his mother – one of the few mementos Spock had left of her. When, one day, Spock refused to bring it back to his room, stating that it was more logical to keep it in one place so that it could be conveniently brought out, Jim couldn't do anything more than take good care of it. He understood the depths of Spock's intentions when he entrusted the chess set to Jim, and it made his chest tighten in a good way.

Jim brushed his fingers over the wooden bishop and came to a stop next to his guitar. Uhura had bought it for him when she found out that he could play. The sneaky girl had been hacking into the communication systems around the ship and heard him strumming his old guitar in an observation deck. (That guitar had sadly perished after a drunken night with Scotty.) She had never let on the inclination that she had heard him or that she even knew of this particular skill until one day, she just thrust a new guitar towards him and asked if he could play "The House of the Rising Sun" by the Animals. It was such an old song and one that Jim had loved when he was a kid in Iowa. He wasn't sure if he was more shocked at the fact that Uhura knew of that song or that she was giving him a guitar. He nodded and they settled into his quarters, Uhura sitting at his feet as he serenaded her. She smiled and kissed his cheek before she left, thanking him. She returned several more times, drowning herself into music that reminded her of the family she had left behind on Earth.

Reaching his desk, Jim touched the small wooden sculpture that was carefully place by his light. It was a small tree about six inches high with its branches stretching out from its trunk. Scotty had explained that it was the Celtic symbol for the Tree of Life. He had carved it for Jim, saying that he hoped that Jim would set his roots with them, even as his branches reached towards the heavens. Jim hadn't even had a single drop of alcohol in his system when Scotty gave it to him, so when his throat was thick with emotion, Jim had to blame something in the air. Scotty just gave him a knowing grin and walked off, whistling happily. For the Scot, it was more than enough that Jim had accepted the small token of friendship, even if Jim still hadn't figured out why he deserved such a thing.

For the first time in his life, Jim had things that were precious to him – he had things that he wanted to take with him. For the first time, he had something that he couldn't bear to leave behind. Even as he packed his belongings, he kept staring longingly at them, wishing that he could put even just one of them into his bag, but he couldn't touch them. Not now. Not with what he had to do. It had to be enough for him for all of these things to wait for him to return.

Sadly and almost hesitantly, Jim peeled off his golden uniform, folding it and gently laid it down onto his bed. He lovingly placed his note onto it, brushing his fingers against his uniform one last time before snatching his hand away. He couldn't indulge himself anymore. Hardening his expressions, Jim shouldered his duffel bag that was filled with his civvies and left his home without a single look back.

It wouldn't be until the next morning when Bones discovered his note. Minutes after, the rest of his crew would be out combing San Francisco for him, but Jim was long gone, disappearing into a world of shadows and treachery.

* * *

**Thirteen Days Later.**

The cold rain pattered on the tin slanted roof of a tall building. Breath fogged with every exhale as Jim pressed himself lower onto the surface, his finger curled around the trigger of a sniper rifle. His hood of his black zip-up jacket had been pulled forward, shielding his eyes from the dripping water. A blue eye peered through the scope, zeroing in on a slender man with medium-long brown hair standing by the window of the building a hundred meters away from where Jim was positioned.

His target was shouting and waving angrily at another man – blonde and rotund. Jim steadied himself and exhaled. His finger pulled and a loud bang ricocheted through the silent air. The brunette fell to the ground, dead, with a bullet hole through the center of his forehead. The blonde's mouth was open in a scream that Jim couldn't hear and he frantically ran out of sight.

Jim wasted no time and grabbed his rifle, shoving it into long bag fully assembled. There was no time to take it apart. He shouldered it and sprinted to the right edge of the roof. He jumped, leaping the small gap to land light on his feet onto the adjacent building. Without pausing, he kept going until he ran out of room to run. He paused briefly to turn around and drop himself off the roof, grabbing the storm drain as he did. His gloved hands allowed swift descent into the alley below. The second his feet landed, he swiftly and quietly ran forward, his feet avoiding all the puddles to prevent a sound, as he neared the place where he knew his actual target was heading.

The sounds of shouting and panicked screams reached Jim's ears now and he came to a stop, hiding his body into the shadows of a fire escape and screwed on a silencer to his Beretta 92. As he predicted, the rotund blonde had just burst out of a side door and was running towards Jim, choosing to head deeper into the maze of alleys instead of onto the open street where he would be more vulnerable.

Behind the blonde were a few bodyguards that Jim easily took care of as they passed by him. The target panicked as he heard the pained grunts when his people were shot and killed, and he fell to the ground, splashing as he landed into a puddle.

Jim stepped closer to him, his gun threatening the man who had started to babble.

"Please, do not kill me! I have money. I can give you anything you desire!" he cried out, a slight Romanian accent to his Standard.

"You can't afford me," Jim growled back, keeping his face hidden by his hood. He knew how menacing he looked, dressed in all black. His gloved hand was steady as he held his gun – he was practiced and confident – terrifying in terms of his target.

Indignant even in the face of imminent death, the man shouted at Jim. "Do you know who I am? I can get you anything you want!"

Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why else would he be here pointing a fucking gun in his target's face if he didn't know who he was? "You're Iosif Alexandrescu, and you are the man who will give me the answers I want."

Jim didn't wait to hear anything else that Iosif was going to say and slammed the butt of his gun into the Romanian's temple.

Iosif went down like a bag of potatoes and Jim bent down to zip tie his legs and arms together before dragging the man down the alley to his get-away car that he had hid around the corner.

He left behind the bodies without a single care, and like a wisp of smoke, Jim was gone again – this time with a prize in tow.

* * *

Capturing Iosif had been the first time that Jim truly surfaced in thirteen days. In that time, Jim had traveled through most of Eastern Europe, listening and digging for answers. He had almost gotten desperate, living off pure adrenaline, until he managed to uncover a partial trace of Frank's phone call buried deep under bureaucrat bullshit somewhere in one of Starfleet's branch office in Romania. It wasn't accurate and Jim had to follow a few leads through the upper Eastern Europe before he discovered the caller to be Iosif Alexandrescu – an assistant to one of the previous Admirals before the Nero incident. He had been promoted in the following years, climbing the ranks as a secretary. But Jim still had difficulty locating the bastard. Iosif was extremely paranoid (three guesses why?) and was in hiding when he wasn't at his post in the Romanian office, which was almost always.

Jim had to lure him out. To do so, he had to break into Iosif's office to check his files for his closest business partner, which was no easy feat. The building had been heavily guarded by loyal and unsuspecting Starfleet officers that Jim wanted to avoid at all costs – he didn't want to raise any alarms (as far as he knew, the people that were after Jim didn't know that he was after _them_) and he didn't want to _have _to kill the soldiers. But he had to maintain his cover. If any of them had seen him, Jim would have to ensure their silence forever. Luckily, he was able to slip into Iosif's office unnoticed and find a name that led him to Serbia.

The place was so cold that it made Jim number than he had already felt, but he kept up his surveillance on Iosif's partner in embezzlement, knowing full well that Iosif was on his way. Jim knew because he had hacked into Iosif's computers and tweaked the numbers in his accounts, making it seem that he was getting played by his partner.

Jim had to wait for two days before Iosif showed up in Serbia, but even then, Jim couldn't get Iosif alone. The man was always followed by his bodyguards – people that Jim didn't want to bring into this entire mess. So Jim chose to set a metaphorical fire to smoke him out, shooting Iosif's partner and leading Iosif straight into his trap like a mouse in a psychology experiment.

Now, the man was slumped unconscious in a chair in a dark room that Jim had set up as his bolt-hole. The room itself was barren; not even a bed was placed in there. Jim didn't sleep much nowadays, seeing how he was always on the run, trying not to be discovered. It was much harder than he could make it sound – the famous James T. Kirk was recognizable throughout the entire universe, particularly on his own home planet. He had to take drastic measures to hide his noticeable features, even donning on colored contacts to make his irises pitch black and rubbing his hair with mud to make it temporarily dark brown. At one point, Jim had even drawn in ugly scars to mar his features, but maintaining it proved to be too difficult so he just let it be. Still, all his efforts had worked until now. No one knew that James Kirk was in the shadows again, tearing through the underground in his mission, which was coming to an end soon, hopefully.

Grabbing a pail of cold water, Jim threw it mercilessly at Iosif, jolting the man awake in seconds.

"Morning, Iosif," Jim taunted as he cast the metal bucket aside. It clunked onto the ground with a loud sound.

Iosif flinched, but he couldn't move much with the rope wrapping tightly around his torso, arms, and legs. He would have to tip the chair if he wanted to move anything more than a couple of centimeters.

Frantically, Iosif looked at his captor, noticing that the hood no longer covered his face. Jim hadn't bothered with the colored contacts that day – it messed with his sniping accuracy – and his hair had returned back to its normal dirty blonde color. Without any extra disguises, it was obvious who it was that stood before Iosif.

Instantly, Iosif's expressions twisted, turning angry and venomous. "Captain Kirk," spat Iosif.

Jim pulled out a knife from one of his pockets in response, touching the sharp blade in a very threatening manner. "Iosif, I have a few questions for you and I would very much like you to answer them." Jim's tone was lighthearted, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made a shiver run down Iosif's spine. "I know that you're not working alone and we'll get to that. For now, why the hell are you trying kill me?"

Jim snarled the last bit and lunged forward, stabbing his knife into the back of Iosif's chair, nicking the Romanian's earlobe.

To Iosif's credit, he didn't flinch in fear as he did back in the alley. He actually had the nerve to chuckle. "We do not want to kill you, Captain Kirk. We merely want you gone."

"And why's that? You jealous of my Captaincy? You want to take it from me?"

Iosif's teeth gnashed in contempt. "You've gotten too big, Captain Kirk. You pose a threat to the rest of the universe."

"How so?"

"You are _the_ Captain Kirk. Your very existence threatens the peace that Starfleet keeps. While you are alive, while you are free to do what you please, nations and species become more angered. With the drop of your name, fear spreads, and we cannot have that. We cannot have a revolution simply because your influence has grown too strong."

Jim smirked, backing up again, but keeping his knife in full view. "So in other words, you're afraid of me and of what I can do."

"We are not fools. We know to fear when there is a monster in our midst."

"What stories have you heard that led you to this ridiculous notion?"

"Everything. From your childhood to your time building the _Enterprise _to your present. We know of the missions you carried out for Admiral Komack. We know of your involvement in Tarsus IV. We know of the blood that follows you. Even you cannot deny that mayhem and misery trail behind you."

Jim stilled, shock flashing across his blue eyes. "And how do you know that?" he demanded.

"You may have excellent hacking skills and removed all traces of your past, but did you not think that leaving your history so unusually blank would not raise red flags? I, among others, was chosen to discover what you have been hiding."

"So you decided to hack into the most secure archives within Starfleet, which happens to be the Admirals' personnel files."

"Correct. Our duty is to maintain the peace and safety within the Federation, and you are a threat that must be eliminated."

"Short of killing me, there isn't much that you can do, and you have just made it clear that you are not in the business of murder. How are you going to get rid of me? I will never willingly leave Starfleet, as I'm sure you all know."

"We shall make you fall from grace, Captain."

Realization dawned on Jim. "You're going to frame me for something…something huge," he breathed out.

There was no response from Iosif and Jim knew that he had hit the bulls-eye.

Despite the ominous feeling that was growing within him, Jim just smirked and flicked his left wrist, pointing his knife at the traitor. "Good luck. That's going to be hard to do when I bring you in for treason."

Iosif grinned wickedly. "Too bad you will not have the luxury."

His jaw worked oddly and Jim realized far too late that Iosif had bit into a cyanide capsule that had been hidden in one of his back molars. Death took seconds, taking any evidence that Jim might have had with it.

Frustration poured out of Jim as he ran his hair. Goddamn! After _days_ of scrounging around like a dog with the lowest of scum, this was where it all ended. Iosif was the last lead Jim had. The _only_ lead Jim had. There were no more whispers, no more trails. Iosif was literally Jim's last resort, and now that he was dead, this was the end of the road for Jim. He didn't even know who the hell Iosif was working.

With nothing tangible except for Iosif's body, Jim highly doubted that Starfleet would just take his word on Iosif's treason. Even if Dreyes believed him, Jim's word meant nothing to the Federation without any proof.

He literally had nothing now. God fucking damn!

And if Iosif had already set his plans to bring Jim down in motion, there was absolutely _nothing_ Jim could do to stop it.

Yeah. There was no doubt about it.

Jim was thoroughly screwed.

He turned, cursing under his breath as he rummaged through his duffel bag and pulled out a communicator. There was only one number plugged into it and with a single press, Jim could hear it dialing out on a secure line.

"_Is it done?"_ The voice was muffled with static, but the words were clear.

"Dreyes, everything's gone cold," Jim said, his tone livid. "Iosif's dead."

"_Did you kill him?"_

"Does it make a difference if I did? The point is, he died before he could tell me who else he was working with."

"_Then you know what has to happen. Where is your current location?"_

"Fucking Serbia."

"_In that case, I will see you back in San Francisco in two days."_

Jim's fingers tightened around the communicator as dread filled his heart. Out of all of his contingency plans, Jim had to fall back on the one with the worst outcome, just because he failed to keep Iosif alive. Fuck. He had no choice now. "Three days, Dreyes. I need to stop by somewhere first. Need to clean up some loose ends."

"_Fine. Be careful. There is no telling what will happen now, Kirk."_

There was a click as Dreyes hung up on Jim.

Fucking Dreyes. As if Jim didn't know that shit was going to hit the fan so very soon.

Angrily, Jim threw the communicator back into his bag and packed everything in a few movements. Throwing up his hood, Jim walked out, leaving Iosif behind for others to find.

After thirteen grueling days, it was time to go home.

And for once, Jim was dreading it.

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

So I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I realize that there are some references in here that are from my other story _Ingenious Idiot_, but I'm really too lazy to go through it and point them out. If you're really confused, either PM/review me or read that story. It should help clarify a few things.

Also, this story, though written out in my head (not on paper!), may be updated slowly from this point on. I will try for at least one update per month, but I recently failed an exam - and by fail, I mean like fail _fail_ (not just a B or C) and I kind of had a massive freak out. So I've decided to focus more on my studies and write whenever I get the free time - at least until I bring up my horrible grade. Sorry! BUT I promise that I will NOT abandon this story or _Ingenious Idiot_. It will just take a bit of time to get the next chapters up, so I hope you guys still stick around and support this story!

Hmm. I think that's about it. As always, please review! It always makes my day, especially with how crappy things have been lately with school and life in general. Your reviews seriously keep me writing and doing the things I enjoy, so for that, I thank you all so much for your kind words and encouragement.

Thanks!

Cheers,

Kanae Yuna


	3. Chapter 3: Of Mistakes and Beginnings

**Chapter 3**

**Of Mistakes and Beginnings**

Under the cover of a dark and rowdy bar, the Command crew of the _Enterprise, _sans their Captain, sat huddled around a table. They were all dressed in inconspicuous civvies – dark, plain shirts with jeans – and were ducking their heads to avoid any attention. Each had matching grim expressions, drawn out with gaunt lines of exhaustion, fear, and worry.

"Anything?" McCoy murmured to the group, his grip on his beer so tight that his knuckles were white.

They all knew what McCoy was referring to.

Spock shook his head. "Nothing as of late."

It had been nearly fifteen days since Jim completely disappeared. Normally, McCoy would have some semblance of where Jim would be or what he was doing, but this time, there was nothing. Even Spock and Chekov combined couldn't even begin to find a trace of Jim. It was just like he was a wisp of smoke – one second there and the next, he was in the wind.

The crew had immediately confronted Pike about their Captain's whereabouts, but even the Admiral was in the dark on the matter. In fact, he hadn't even known that Jim was gone. Or at least, he hadn't expected Jim to have left so soon. The last they spoke, Dreyes had already put things into motion – no matter how anyone fought, Jim was going to be pulled into the depths of Section 31 and disappear until his mission was completed. It was just a matter of time and clearly, the situation was far direr than Pike had suspected if Jim was already shipped off within _minutes_ of landing.

Frustrated, but resigned, Pike could only leave things how they were. Section 31 had hold of Jim now and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

And now, _days_ later, the crew had _less_ than what they started with.

"Goddamn. Where the hell could he be?" McCoy snarled quietly.

"He's left on missions before, Leonard," Uhura said gently, her voice tainted with worry that she would never show in front of Kirk.

"But he's never completely gone off the grid like this. No matter what kind of mission he was on, either me or Pike knew about the general location he was in or how long he'd be." McCoy hesitated and looked down at the table with such sorrow and hurt in his eyes. "He agreed that he'd always tell me…"

Chekov frowned. "Vhat are ve going to do?"

"Is there anything that we can do?" Sulu questioned. "I mean, you and Spock have been trying everything to find a single trace on him, but Kirk's a ghost. We might just have to wait until he pops up again."

"What if he doesn't? His note was extremely vague, and a vague Jim never means anything good," McCoy shot back.

"Ever the optimist, aren't you? I thought we were the 'glass-half-full' type of people," Sulu said, his words echoing a similar situation when Jim and Chekov had been captured in Germany. "You should know better than any of us that Kirk left us for a reason. What if we're endangering him by looking for him?"

Chekov fell silent, remembering his time in captivity in Germany with Jim. Back then, Jim clearly could have gotten himself out of that precarious situation so easily, but with Chekov in the equation, he had to take drastic measures to ensure Chekov's safety. It almost cost Jim his life and it was not something anyone of them wanted repeated.

"I agree vith Hikaru," he said sadly. "The Keptin is stronger vhen he does not hawe to look after someone else."

"While that is true, Jim is also infamous for his lack of self-preservation," Spock added.

For once, McCoy agreed with the Vulcan. "Jim needs someone to watch his back."

Scotty took a deep gulp of his scotch before speaking. "Ah think yer all forgettin' tha' Jim only gets reckless if he's tryin' to protect someone. Think 'bout it. Name one time tha' Jim got 'urt because he was tryin' to save 'imself."

"But he's never had a fucking flashing target on his back before! And it was put there by people that he should have been able to trust," McCoy snarled. "Pike said it himself – Starfleet's been compromised, which means Jim's mission could have been too."

"Jim's a smart lad and he knows what he's doin'. Trust me on this," Scotty said with conviction, completely disregarding McCoy's worries. "Wherever tha' lad is, he's alive and survivin'. All we can do is stick around and make sure tha' he has a family and home to come back to."

"But what if we can't? Our next orders haven't even come in yet, but there are rumors that we're being reassigned Captains," Uhura hissed. "If we get shipped out before Kirk comes back, there's nothing we can do."

McCoy groaned and rubbed his face tiredly. "We're in a hot damn mess, aren't we? Goddamn it, Jim…"

"We are all worried, Doctor, and we all fear for Jim's safety, but exhausting ourselves over what could happen is not conducive to anyone." Spock paused and his voice suddenly became softer. "Jim would not wish for us to worry about him as much as we are now."

"Then what will you have me do?!" McCoy almost burst out, only remembering at the last minute to keep his voice down. "Jim's out there doing god knows what with absolutely no support! I can't just sit around and do nothing!"

Spock leveled an even look at McCoy. "What can you do that will help him then, Doctor? Pray tell, because I truly would like to know as well."

McCoy's entire body tensed, as if he was about to wrestle with the Vulcan, but a second later, he deflated, completely resigned.

"Jim will be fine," Spock tried again, trying to comfort himself as well as the rest of his friends.

Leonard slammed his beer to the table, screeching his chair back as he suddenly got to his feet. "He damn well better be, or I'm going to avenge his idiotic ass, damn the consequences and the fuckers that played him like a fucking puppet."

The highly wound-up doctor stormed away, banging and swearing his way out of the bar.

Uhura sighed and stood as well, though much more delicately than McCoy had done. "I better make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." And she followed Leonard out.

The rest of them didn't sit around for long after them. Spock left almost immediately after Nyota, planning on seeing what else he could dig up; Scotty waited for a few more minutes to drain the last of his scotch before leaving silently.

"We should probably go too," Sulu said to Chekov who merely nodded quietly.

The two paid for the tab and stepped out into the street. People bustled about in the sun before them, rushing to their destinations without sparing them a glance. It was almost unfair how the world kept moving without Jim around – there wasn't a single shred of his presence in this world that he had saved over and over again.

But perhaps that was only because Chekov was searching for Jim in the people moving around him. He wanted to see that cocky smile that Jim always had before he did something amazing; he wanted to see the gentle and caring soul that Jim always saw in the hearts of the complete strangers around him. But without Jim beside him to remind him that there were genuinely good people out in the world, it was hard for Chekov to see past his own hurt, anger, and sorrow.

Sulu patted Chekov on his shoulder, attempting to be comforting, but he knew that it wasn't going to be enough because he simply couldn't understand the depths of Chekov's emotions. He and Kirk had always been fast friends – not quite as close as Spock or Bones – yet enough that they could call each other brothers. Sulu had every faith in Jim to keep himself safe, but he knew he was being naïve. He couldn't even begin to fathom what Kirk was facing right now while Chekov could. The young Navigator had been with Jim on one of his missions, and they both came back bleeding and dying. Sulu didn't know exactly what had transpired in that dirty prison cell that the two had been kept in, but what they went through – it created a bond between Kirk and Chekov that no one but the two of them could understand.

He didn't know how to comfort Chekov, but he certainly could try, and Chekov appreciated it.

The young genius smiled at Sulu gratefully, not saying a word.

"Take care, alright, Chekov? I'll stop by tomorrow if you want to grab lunch."

"I vould like zat," Chekov responded. "See you tomorrow, Hikaru."

Sulu waved once and turned around, strolling away. Chekov waited for a couple of seconds before going the other way to head home. As he did, he caught a flash of a hooded figure standing across the street from him, staring directly at him. The black hood covered most of the man's face, leaving only a small section of his pale chin visible to the public. His hands were shoved into his jeans' pockets, making his shoulders slightly hunched. He didn't stand out in the crowd – people paid almost no attention to him at all – but there was something vaguely familiar about his tall, fit figure.

Before Chekov had the chance to work though anything, he blinked and the man was gone – disappearing like a mirage. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. He must be tired and strained if he seeing things.

Pulling his jacket closer to his body, Chekov started walking again, not even realizing that he was being followed. After a few blocks, he turned into an alley – a shortcut to his apartment.

That was his mistake.

He only had the time to take two steps before hands reached out and grabbed him – one wrapping around his mouth to silence him and the other in an unbreakable hold around his stomach and waist.

He couldn't even scream, let alone fight, before he was dragged completely into the shadows.

And absolutely no one had noticed.

* * *

Pike sighed tiredly as he turned the key to his door. His home was dark and empty, just as he left it. He had just come back from a long day of work followed by an entire evening of mollifying Spock and McCoy about Jim. Nothing he said did anything to help, but the alcohol and the company had temporarily soothed all parties involved.

Exhaustion hung on Pike's older frame, his own worry for his "adopted" son weighing heavily down on him as he started to remove the thin jacket he had on. Keys clinked into its glass bowl by the door – the only sound besides Pike's breathing.

Trudging forward, Pike moved into the kitchen, refusing to turn on the lights. He had planned on pouring himself another tumbler of whiskey when the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Quietly and covertly, Pike opened one of his drawers, his hand resting on a phaser that he had hidden inside.

"There's no need for that," came a very familiar and tired voice.

Pike almost jumped at how close the man was to him, but that was quickly replaced with such relief that it made his knees weak. "Damn it, Jim! I could've killed you!" he exclaimed, turning around and switching the lights on in one gesture.

Jim stood a few feet away from him, leaning casually against the counter. He was in jeans and a navy-blue, long-sleeved shirt. His hair had been mussed with and there were weary lines drawn deep into his young face, but there was a small smile there as Jim looked at his father-figure with fondness.

"No, you couldn't have, and you know it, Pike," Jim chuckled. His laughter was strained, almost forced. It was to be expected though. Fifteen days scampering around god-knows-where, fighting and surviving did a lot of things to a man. If it were any longer, Jim probably would have forgotten what it felt like to smile or laugh.

Pike just eyed Jim and reached up, opening a cabinet to pull out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He poured equal amounts into them, sliding one over towards Jim. "I didn't give you that key to scare the hell out of me, kid."

"Shouldn't have given me the key to your house in the first place. That was your mistake," he quipped as he easily caught the tumbler.

"And yet, this is the first time you've ever used it."

Jim shrugged and drained the whiskey in one go. Though strong, the alcohol was nowhere enough to even give Jim a little buzz.

"When did you get in?" Pike sipped at his own drink.

"This morning."

"Where have you been?"

"Somewhere cold."

Pike knew better than to ask details of his mission under Section 31. "You okay?"

"For now," Jim said cryptically. "I need a favor, Chris. A huge one."

The fact that Jim used Pike's first name set off alarm bells in his head. Jim only ever called him 'Chris' when he was desperate. Pike tried to not let his panic show in his body language and resolutely lifted his chin. "Anything, Jim. You know that."

Jim set the glass down. "The mission was a bust. There's nothing I can do now except wait for everything to go to hell in a handbasket."

"What's going to happen?"

"I don't know the exact details, but it's not going to end well for me." Jim ran his fingers through his short hair nervously. Now Pike understood how Jim's hair got so messy – he must've been repeating that motion over and over again to calm his agitated nerves with no avail. "Chris, no matter what happens, I need you to let it play out. It's the only way."

"You know I can't do that if you're going to be in danger, Jim…" Pike whispered.

"You have to. This is the end of the road for me, but there's something that you can do." Jim slid a folded piece of paper towards Pike. "Burn this when you've memorized it."

Pike frowned as he picked it up. "What is it?"

"Instructions. Tell no one about this, Chris. Not even to Bones or Spock. This _cannot_ get out." Jim stepped away when Pike skimmed through Jim's hastily scrawled words.

"Jim…this is…?!" Pike glanced up in horror at Jim.

Jim winced. "Yeah, I know. Trust me, I'm not looking forward to it either." He paused. "I gotta go. There're a few more things I need to do before tomorrow."

"Jim…"

"Keep my family safe, Chris," Jim interrupted, his voice quiet and soft. "That includes you. Don't do anything stupid and tell them to stay the hell away from all this. I can't let you guys get burned by the whiplash."

"Be careful, Jim. Please."

Jim smiled so sadly that it made Pike's heart ache. "That went out the window long before I even got involved." He walked towards the door, knowing full well that Pike was going to follow him there. Stopping at the now open exit, Jim turned to look at his father-figure one more time. "Thanks for everything, Chris. Goodbye. See you on the other side."

Before Pike even got the chance to reply, Jim was gone again, taken by the darkness around him.

* * *

The night was chilly and a slight fog had started to settle in. The streets were completely empty at this late hour, and it was exactly how Jim wanted it. He pulled up his hood, zipping up his jacket as a cold shiver ran through him. It wasn't quite as cold as Serbia or even Iowa during the winter, for that matter, but the weather still chilled Jim to his bones.

After leaving Pike's house, Jim had tied up a few more loose strings before wandering out to clear his head. Emotionally, Jim was completely drained. He had left a letter to Bones lying on his coffee table back in his apartment. He had no doubt that Bones regularly checked his empty place (he refused to call the small studio as "home" since he was barely ever there anyway) to see if Jim had ever stopped by. Jim didn't risk it, of course. The reporters knew where Jim lived when he was in San Francisco and often staked it out, which is why Pike had given him a key to his place. Pike's home was on the outskirts of the bustling downtown – it was traditional and unchanged, almost replicating the twenty-first century style housing – and it was quiet and more importantly, undisturbed. But Jim hadn't dared to take Pike up on his offer, choosing to stay over at Bones' place until reporters figured that out too. Then, Jim had just bounced between his crew, staying only briefly until shore leave was _finally_ over with and he could get back on board his usual, beautiful girl.

It was going to be a while before Jim would be able to step foot on the _Enterprise_ now, if ever. He was going to miss her and everything that came with her: his family, his crew, and his freedom. He still wasn't sure what the hell Iosif and his comrades had come up for him, but he had an inkling of how it was going to go down. He had known for a while now that his downfall was never going to be about him dying. His death would mark him as a martyr for the history books and his name would forever be remembered in awe and inspiration (even though he didn't deserve it); Iosif wanted to destroy his very existence. To do that, Jim would have to, as Iosif said, fall from grace. He hadn't lied when he accidentally let it slip during that mission with wisps that someone was out to destroy his reputation, not that anyone actually paid attention to it. He, himself, hadn't even realized that he had blurted it out – he had never meant to let his crew know anything about this.

With Iosif dead, Jim just knew that things were in motion now – they had to act quickly, especially when they weren't sure if Iosif talked to Jim. This was going to be his last night. Tomorrow, he was going to meet up with Dreyes and just let everything hit him at once. Maybe – _just_ maybe – Jim would still be able to stand after the harsh beat-down that he was in for.

And all Jim wanted to do was find Bones and crash on his couch. He wanted to get his best friend piss-ass drunk as they used to do when they were in the Academy. He just wanted Bones' sarcastic and grouchy company, god help him. He wanted to do math problems with Chekov, play chess with Spock, serenade to Uhura, fence with Sulu, and share tales with Scotty. His heart ached and yearned to be with his family – to see them smile and laugh with him, to have their presence warm him and keep him human.

In the fifteen days that Jim was separated from them, he could feel the familiar apathy creeping up on him. There was a coldness settling in his chest; lives around him stopped meaning something. He was returning to the "kill or be killed" world and the people around him started appearing as wolves wrapped in sheep's clothing. It reminded him too much of Tarsus – of his time as J.T., and that frightened him, because he was never scared to do what needed to be done, no matter how dirty his hands got. He was terrified of that; he knew what he was capable of, which was exactly why he was absolutely petrified of looking in the mirror one day to see a monster staring back at him.

When he was with Bones, Spock, Chekov, Uhura, Sulu, and Scotty, Jim could pretend that he wasn't aware of his dark side. He could pretend that people really didn't hate him as much he hated himself. More importantly, he could pretend that he was _human_ – that his past didn't define him. Being around his family let him feel that he was actually living and not just surviving (because there was a huge difference between the two, as Jim was well aware). He was happy, and that kept J.T. at bay.

But all good things came to an end – it was his rule number thirteen ('lucky' number thirteen…). Jim knew that better than anyone.

It was time to go, but he remembered what he was leaving. He remembered the best, and his friends had always been the best of him. He could spend lifetimes and still not be able to express the depths of his gratitude to his friends, especially to Bones. Bones was the first – the one constant in Jim's chaotic life – and to him, Jim left everything, though it wasn't much. His savings, his apartment, and all those trinkets that Jim had gathered over the years he had known Bones – they were all going to his best friend. Bones would finally get to find out about the college fund that Jim had started for Joanna the day he became Captain. Pike would, under Jim's instruction, get a damn good lawyer and perhaps he could get full custody of his kid.

Jim wasn't sure what he could possibly leave to the rest of his crew, but he hoped that they would still stay together. He had never thought that they would disperse just because he wasn't around – their bonds were stronger than that – but Bones would need them as much as Jim did. Bones filled holes in Jim's life and Jim did the same for the doctor; this was going to tear them both apart, damaging things that were barely patched up in the first place. And it killed Jim to have to do this to his best friend – to his brother.

Goddamn. Jim really wanted to see his family, but it was too dangerous. Going to any of their places would just rouse suspicion and Jim couldn't risk putting his friends in danger right before they were going to be shipped off to Zenobia where they would be safe.

Jim had just talked it over with Dreyes. In the morning, the Admiral was going to send out the orders for Wolff to take over for him. The sooner the better too, unfortunately, because Jim didn't want them to be around and caught up in the aftershocks of the earthquake that Jim was about to set off. Jim was going to be the epicenter and lives were going to be ruined if they were in too close of a proximity to him.

All Jim had to do now was meet up with Dreyes tomorrow to "officially" be given his orders and wait for his life to fall apart.

Hopefully, Jim had been able to predict all of his opponents' moves and his contingency plans would be able to cover and counter their actions. Jim wasn't a genius for nothing – he was fairly confident in his abilities to get himself out of tight spots.

He didn't believe in no-win situations, especially in this match of chess. Jim almost _never_ lost at that game.

And he wasn't about to change that.

* * *

Jim had a sense of foreboding the moment he woke up in his dingy, dirty, no-name motel room, and it wasn't because he saw a rat scampering across the floor at the foot of his bed. These sort of conditions never bothered Jim (not after his past experiences – nothing could be worse than Tarsus). He had gotten maybe an hour or two of sleep before the first rays of sunlight woke him up. A heavy feeling sat on his chest, constricting and twisting like a boa constrictor. It was something that he had felt before on a day that he was never going to be able to forget for the rest of his life. This ominous, sinking sensation was almost exactly what Jim felt the morning that Kodos executed half the Tarsus IV colony before his eyes.

He rubbed his face wearily, trying to shake away all trepidation, but he knew that it wasn't going to do much. Swinging his legs around, Jim pulled himself out of bed and started pulling on his jeans and a tight, black long-sleeved shirt. Glancing at the mirror, Jim noted that he had lost weight – his face was gaunt and pale; there was steel in his blue eyes, tinting it grey. It had been a long time since Jim had seen such a look in himself – over twelve years, in fact – and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Terrified was probably a good adjective to use at the moment. It was a strange combination with his determination and resolution.

With his heavy heart, Jim left the sanctity of his room and made his way unnoticed to Starfleet Headquarters. People bustled around him, each rushing to their destinations and to complete their tasks. No one paid any attention to Jim, though he did purposely hunch his shoulders to make himself smaller and unnoticeable. As Jim stepped into the pristine white building, he could feel his nerves grating and he almost hesitated, but he kept going.

There was no going back now.

Straightening, Jim marched to Dreyes' office with purpose now. Passing cadets and officers started to take notice of Jim, making way for the young Captain as he walked into the elevator to go up five floors.

He paused right before Dreyes' door, completely freezing even as his hand prepared to knock. Something was off. His instincts were _screaming _at him, ringing all sorts of bells in his head, and he was immediately on guard. He had learned long ago to always trust his instincts (rule number two), because they were almost always right.

But he couldn't figure out what was amiss. The hallway was usually fairly empty with a couple of officers going from one end to another, so there was nothing different about that. There were no sounds of a scuffle or angry words being thrown at some hapless cadet; there was nothing different about his immediate surroundings.

Frowning, Jim knocked on the door, but there was no response. Dreyes should be in his office – he had made an appointment with Jim at 0800 sharp, and Dreyes never missed or was late to an appointment. Trepidation ran down Jim's spine as he cautiously turned the doorknob to open the door.

An overwhelming stench of iron slammed into Jim and panic started to rise. He could recognize that smell even asleep – it was something that he had never been able to wash off: the pungent scent of blood.

Without even thinking, Jim burst into the room, not caring that, in his haste, he had slammed the door so hard against the wall that the thud was heard down the hall. Dreyes' office was an absolute mess – papers were lying uselessly on the ground; furniture was overturned. It was a far cry from the obsessive compulsive cleanliness that Dreyes maintained.

Jim's blue eyes settled on Dreyes a second later and his entire stomach dropped out. Dreyes was sitting in his chair, leaning backwards at an awkward angle. Blood was beginning to pool around the legs of his seat, dripping down from numerous stab wounds in his torso. The knife's handle was still protruding from where it was buried under his left clavicle. His eyes were closed and his right hand was lying limply on his desk, leaving bloody prints all over the documents that were set on the table.

"Shit!" Jim swore under his breath and took two giant running steps to reach Dreyes' side. He pressed his fingers against Dreyes' left jugular vein and felt a thread and fading heartbeat.

There wasn't much hope for Dreyes. Now that Jim was closer, he could actually count how many times Dreyes had been stabbed. The poor man had been attacked from the front, which meant that Dreyes had known his attacker. For him to be stabbed seven times, it must have been someone that Dreyes had fully trusted. The first act alone had probably stunned Dreyes so much that he couldn't react to the rest.

Still, Dreyes had a heartbeat and Jim may still be able to get him to say who it was that attacked him before it was too late.

Jim knew to not remove the knife – it was probably acting as a plug for that particular wound, which prevented further blood loss. He pressed his hands straight onto Dreyes' chest. Nausea rose in Jim's throat as he felt the warm liquid gush over his fingers. With each fading heartbeat, more blood was pumped out onto Jim's hands. It raised memories that Jim never wanted to touch again.

_Little Charlie had just been shot by Kodos' soldier; his brown eyes were growing more and more vacant even as J.T. tried to stop the bleeding. Minutes ticked by and soon, those eyes saw nothing more, leaving behind bloodstained hands that could never be clean again._

Shaking himself out of the memory, Jim pressed down harder, eliciting a weak groan from Dreyes. The Admiral slowly peeled his eyes open and Jim could see the once brilliant look glazing over as his body failed him.

"Hey," Jim said reassuringly, despite the worry that he knew was shining in his eyes. "You're going to be alright."

Dreyes breathed laboriously as he struggled to find the words. "Bull…shit…" he panted.

"Who did this to you, Dreyes?" The urgency in Jim's voice couldn't be hidden. Dreyes was fading before him so fast, like a candle flame on its last legs.

Dreyes coughed, blood splattering onto Jim's face.

"Dreyes! Stay with me! Who the hell did this to you?!" Jim almost shouted, shoving down harder on Dreyes' chest.

The Admiral weakly squirmed in pain; his breathing was getting shallower and clearly, he was fighting to drag in that precious oxygen into his punctured lungs. He wheezed, "Trap…"

"What trap? Tell me, what trap?!"

"_Enterprise_…"

"What about the _Enterprise_? Come on, Dreyes! You're stronger than this, you damn bastard!"

But Dreyes was done. He wheezed in one last breath and gurgled, blood filling his mouth to the point that it started dripping down his chin. And then he breathed no more. Dreyes' entire body went slack and his open eyes stared unseeingly into the distance.

"God fucking damn!" Jim hissed, pulling his hands away. He wanted to run his fingers through his hair, but his hands were soaked in blood.

Horror and disgust of the feel of blood on him consumed him and he wanted nothing more than to run away.

Dreyes was never his favorite person – he barely even got along with the man, but it was still hard to see someone that he knew, die before him. And the fucking bastard left more questions than answers. What did he mean by trap? And what did that have to do with the _Enterprise_? She was already getting ready to leave San Francisco to go to Zenobia. Was she flying into a trap or was Jim going to be trapped by her?

Pieces slowly connected and oh. _Oh._ In that instant, Jim knew who had killed Dreyes – or at least he had a good guess, but he would have to confirm it before he acted upon it. Quickly, he ducked down to glance at the knife, grabbing the handle and pulling it out for any clues. As he did, his eyes caught sight of the papers underneath Dreyes' hand.

Sitting on Dreyes' desk was a half-signed form stating that Captain James T. Kirk was to relinquish his captaincy of the _Enterprise_ to Commander Royce Wolff, effective immediately. Dreyes' signature had tapered off in the middle of his first name. Clearly, someone didn't want Dreyes to finish what he started, and it pointed directly at Jim – the one person who had everything to lose from Dreyes signing that form.

It was an obvious implication of Jim's supposed guilt.

Shit. This was going to turn on Jim so quickly that his head was going to be left spinning. He was in the motion of setting down the blade when three officers came rushing in, shouting with their phasers flailing about. Someone must've heard the door slamming when Jim ran in and his subsequent shouting and called in the cavalry.

Jim was caught red-handed – literally and metaphorically – with the murder weapon in his hand and hovering over the dead Admiral.

"Stop! Put your hands up and set down your weapon!" yelled a tall, brunette man.

"This isn't what it looks like," Jim said slowly, putting the knife onto the desk with delicate movements. He then did as he was told, raising both hands up in surrender. "He was already dying when I found him."

Suddenly, one of the officers tilted his head and his eyes widened in recognition. "Captain Kirk?" His tone was incredulous and baffled.

"The one and only." For once, Jim was glad for his reputation. "Look, I had an appointment with Dreyes this morning in regards to a mission that I just completed. I'm sure if you look around, you can find some documentation of it. And besides, I have no reason to want to kill him. I have no motive."

The officers looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

"You keep watch on Captain Kirk," the first person said to the one who realized who Jim was. "We'll look around to confirm what he said."

Jim was pushed (none too gently) towards the door and shoved face-first against the wall. He hissed in irritation. "Is this really necessary?"

"I'm sorry, Captain, but this is protocol."

"It's protocol to man-handle innocent people into walls? Who the hell wrote that rule? Seriously, people. A little decorum would be nice here."

"An Admiral is dead – murdered in his own office. I think decorum just went out the window."

Jim fell silent. Yeah, he had to give the officer that.

"Hey! Look at this!" the third officer said loudly.

"Oh my god…" breathed the first.

Jim's heart sank once more as his brilliant mind figured out what the officers had found. He couldn't believe that he had forgotten Dreyes' half-signed document on the desk.

To all those who knew Jim, they knew that his Captaincy of the _Enterprise_ meant everything to him. To lose her could easily send him into a murderous rage – at least that was how it would seem to the outside world.

It was a clear-cut motive.

That, combined with the fact that Jim was found holding the murder weapon and his hands covered in the dead Admiral's blood, was damn condemning evidence that no one could ignore. At this point, Jim wasn't even sure if his mission that was ordered by Dreyes was recorded, (he had been working under Section 31 after all), let alone written down among the papers scattered in his ruined office. It wasn't known as Starfleet's clandestine service for nothing. Jim's name was probably never even recorded and all his missions were most definitely coded and hidden deep, deep within Starfleet's archives.

Jim felt cuffs being clamped onto his wrists tightly and a phaser being jammed against his back.

"Captain James T. Kirk, we place you under arrest for the murder of Admiral Dreyes. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"

Jim tuned out the rest of it as he tried to fight down his despair and anger at being wrongfully accused of a murder that he didn't commit.

As he was paraded out of the door as a high-risk criminal, Jim finally understood what Iosif said about him falling from grace. The humiliation and shame were almost enough for Jim to want to escape from his restraints (something that he could do easily) and hunt down Dreyes' actual murderer, but he had to let this play out.

There was more to this – Jim just knew it. With all the trouble Iosif and his people went through to frame Jim for this murder, there still wasn't going to be enough to convict him. With how advanced technology was now, it was only a matter of time before Jim was freed. His reputation probably wouldn't even suffer from this scratch.

No…Iosif and his friends were far from done.

This was just the beginning.

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

Um. So I'm still playing catchup with my horrible grade. I did bring it up quite a bit so I'm actually passing the class now (yay!) but it's still not where I want it to be. I'll probably be working my butt off for these last 5 weeks of school, so again, and I'm sorry, but there's going to be slow updates. I want to thank you guys for being so understanding and giving me so many words of encouragement. I really appreciate all of your kind words and I'm eternally grateful. So thank you so much! I love you all!

Thank you for your reviews and I hope that you continue to review my stories!

Cheers,

Yuna


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